


The Real World

by Severely_Lupine



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: AU, Drama, Gen, Psychological
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-22
Updated: 2009-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-03 14:12:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severely_Lupine/pseuds/Severely_Lupine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry wakes up in an asylum to find his life is not what he thought it was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Real World

A branch snapping was the only warning he had, then the Snatchers were on them.  Harry didn't even see them.  He barely had time to shout to Ron and Hermione as he raised his wand and thrust it toward the shadows when he was hit with a Crucio and his world dissolved into nothing but pain and fire and screaming.

 

The next thing he knew, he was waking up, and familiar voices were saying unfamiliar things.

 

"BP is stable, breathing back to normal.  He's going to be fine.  More's the pity."

 

"Harry.  Harry, can you hear me?  I think he's coming round."

Harry forced his eyes open and was momentarily blinded by bright white lights.  When his vision cleared, he realized why the voice sounded so familiar.

 

"Remus?"

 

The man smiled, the skin of his face crinkling oddly due to the scars that crossed it in places.  "Yes, that's right.  How do you feel?"

 

Harry groaned.  Generally, he felt like rubbish, as one does after being Crucioed, but he was mostly fine.  His right hand, however, was throbbing with pain.  He looked at it, but he couldn't get a clear view under the white bandages a set of sure fingers were swiftly wrapping around it.

 

"What . . . happened?"

 

"You stuck a fork in an electrical socket," said a sneering voice—the man wrapping his hand.

 

Realizing who the second man was, Harry jerked back, pulling his hand away.  "You!  Don't touch me, murderer!"

 

The man stood and glared down at him.  "This is growing very tiresome, Mr. Potter."

 

Before Harry could respond, Remus said, "Thank you, Dr. Snape.  I can take it from here."

 

Harry blinked, dumbfounded, as Snape strode away. 

 

"Harry, do you know who I am?" Remus asked, smiling in a kind, reassuring way as he finished wrapping Harry's hand.

 

"Of course," Harry said.  The strange white coat looked very odd on him, but his face was familiar enough.  "You're Remus Lupin."

 

"That's right.  And do you know who you are?"

"I'm Harry Potter," said Harry.  His eyes narrowed, suddenly unsure if the man he was speaking to really was Remus.  Too late, he remembered that he should ask a question to verify.  "When did Tonks's Patronus change form?"

 

Remus sighed and sat back in his chair, rubbing his forehead wearily.  "Harry, do you know where you are?"

 

A horrible, cold feeling began to coil in Harry's stomach, and for the first time he took a good look around the room he was in.

 

He was lying in a bed, the head of which was propped up so he was in a semi-seated position.  There was a bright fluorescent light above him and strange machines in several places along the wall.  There was no hint of stone or torchlight or anything resembling any kind of magic. 

 

"It looks like a Muggle hospital room," he said.  He glanced at his bandaged hand and realized that he'd somehow been injured.  "Remus—if you _are_ Remus—why am I here?  What's going on?"

 

Remus sat straighter and looked at him with sudden interest.  "You know you're in a hospital room?"  Harry nodded.  "That's wonderful!"

 

"Remus, seriously, what's going on?  Where's my wand?  And where are Ron and Hermione?"

Remus leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.  "Hermione's in the waiting room, but don't—no, don't try to get up yet.  I need to talk to you first."

 

Harry settled back down into the bed, still tempted to just run out and get his answers from Hermione.  They couldn't afford to waste time with nonsense like this.  There were still Horcruxes to find.

 

"All right," he said, trying to remain calm.  "What do you want to talk about, Remus?"

 

"Harry, I don't know how, but I think that shock you took somehow managed to bring your mind back into the real world.  I haven't seen you this lucid in years."

 

Harry frowned.  "Okay, Remus, or whoever you are, I don't have time for this."  He started to get out of the bed, but Remus put a hand on his arm to stop him.

 

"Your name is Harry James Potter," Remus said firmly, and Harry stopped.  "Six and a half years ago, you were brought here after your parents were killed in an automobile accident.  You were trapped in the back seat for over seven hours until help arrived.  It traumatized you.  You couldn't accept what had happened.  Instead, you kept insisting that they'd been killed by some kind of dark wizard . . . that you were a wizard, too."

 

"But I _am_ a wizard!" Harry yelled, leaping out of the bed.  "You're lying!  That's—that's—where's Hermione?"  He stumbled toward the door of the room.  "Hermione!"

 

Remus ran over and caught him before he made it to the door, wrapping his arms around him in a way that was both restraining and comforting.  The same way he had when Sirius died.

 

"Listen to me, Harry!" Remus hissed into his ear.  "Don't disappear again!  You must listen!"

 

Harry's body felt strange, his legs were so weak, and there was something so desperate and pleading in Remus's voice. . . . He allowed Remus to lead him back to the bed, where they both sat, facing each other.

 

"I know it's a lot to take in," Remus said, "but you need to understand that the world you think you know—wizards and magic and everything else—it's not real.  None of it is real, Harry.  There is no Voldemort, no secret wizard society, no war.  It's all in your head.  You created it to cope with a terrible trauma, but you need to let go of it."

 

Harry's mind was reeling.  No war, no Voldemort . . . how he wanted to believe that.  Could it be possible that the hell he was putting himself through was nothing more than an elaborate delusion?

 

He looked at the open window, catching his reflection in the glass.  It was still there.  His scar.  He touched it.

 

"If there's no Voldemort, how did I get this?"

 

"In the car accident that killed your parents," Remus said softly.  "Other than that, you were completely unharmed. . . . Physically, at least."

 

So it was just like the Dursleys had told him all along.  Except . . . were the Dursleys even real?

 

He let his gaze drift through the window, past the bushes, up into the sky . . . where a full moon rode low near the horizon.

 

He gasped, and looked at Remus, shocked.

 

Remus glanced out the window and his mouth formed into a tight smile as his gaze fell back down to the sheets.

 

"I'm not a werewolf, Harry."  His voice was soft, gentle, but there was something underneath it.  Something like . . . an old pain.  "Your mind took my name and my . . . scars, and wove a story around them that made it all make sense and drove you deeper into your world of magic and monsters."

 

Harry stared at him, looking more closely at Remus's scars than he ever had before.  "Then, how did you get them?"

 

Remus was silent for a long moment before meeting Harry's eyes.  "I took over your case when you were thirteen.  You'd just had a very . . . disturbing visit with some family members.  It was my fault.  I should have allowed the orderlies to restrain you before I went in.  From your history, we had no idea how you would respond to any new person.  Some you were indifferent toward, some you seemed instantly fond of, some you hated on sight."

 

"Are you saying . . . that _I_ did that to you?"

 

"They wanted to reassign me, but I wouldn't hear of it.  What happened only proved that you were in desperate need of help.  You didn't seem to recognize me when you next saw me, and we have, I think, established a fairly good relationship, though one not without its occasional bumps."  His mouth quirked in an amused smile.  "In fact, you gave me quite a chewing out not too long ago, afraid I was going to leave my wife or some such rot."

 

Harry blinked.  "Then, Tonks is real?"

 

Remus's eyes twinkled with amusement.  "Yes, Harry, she's real.  In fact, she found it endlessly entertaining that you took one look at her pink hair when she came to volunteer one day and decided that she was a shapeshifter.  She thinks the fact that you decided Teddy was also a shapeshifter, rather than a werewolf, is proof that you like her better than me."

 

Harry's mind spun as he tried to come to grips with the way the world was reforming around him. 

 

"What about Ron and Ginny?"

 

Remus nodded.  "Your sister's boyfriend and his sister."

 

"Sister?" Harry asked.  "I haven't got a sister."

 

"Yes, you do," Remus said patiently.  "Hermione is your sister."

Harry blinked.  Could it be that everyone he knew was still here, the essence of them still the same as the people he knew—or thought he knew?  But if there was no Voldemort, they would just be able to live their lives like normal people—go to school, work, come home, have dinner with the family . . . And he could, as well.  Just a normal teenager without the weight of the world on his shoulders . . .

 

Perhaps the world he'd been fighting so hard to make had been here all along.

 

Harry took a deep breath and looked at Remus.  "If it's all right, I think I'd like to talk to my sister now."


End file.
